


I Thought I Could Trust You, or "The Merry Month of May-hem"

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 03:15:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: The guys were forming a strong team, sure, but Actor, well, Actor was supposed to be Garrison's second-in-command, was supposed to have his back.  How could he have DONE something like this??!  Garrison wasn't sure he could ever forgive him.  He looked down at the list in front of him, read it through.  No, he just didn't see how he could.





	I Thought I Could Trust You, or "The Merry Month of May-hem"

**Author's Note:**

> Early on, soon after team really starting to form bonds.

Sergeant Major's underwear flying from the flagpole. That was probably the start of it, but no one thought much of it since that happened with some regularity. It had been followed by Goniff being sewn into his sheets in the middle of the night; that would have been a lot funnier if he'd fought the situation, but being a pragmatist at heart and liking a bit of a lay-in in the morning, he just burrowed deeper, went back to sleep, figuring someone else could figure out to retrieve him if they really needed him. Hiding Actor's current book and reshelving it who knows where caused a few sparks. Garrison had been singularly unamused when the combination on the safe all of a sudden didn't work; somehow, though, that had gotten rectified as soon as he let it be known that their daily cigarette allottment was in there; in fact, he decided that was a pretty good place to keep them, even if the paperwork did spell of almost-tobacco. Casino's fountain pens had turned out to contain invisible ink, the writing disappearing even before he finished the last paragraph of his latest letter home. Somehow, Chief's blades went untampered with; go figure! Still, that was just the slow start-up.

It had turned into a full fledged circus now, a combination practical joke of the day, king of the hill, scavenger hunt, chicken, with a touch of truth or dare. Sergeant Major had been almost in tears after the last episode had ended up with all of his files having been taken out and replaced in, not a haphazard fashion, oh no, that would have been too easy. No, they'd been put back in bloody code, with the code key left in big block letters on a piece of paper on his desk. Well, not ON his desk, actually, pinned to the ceiling OVER his desk! Where he'd only discovered it after throwing his head back to give a silent scream! He laid it down in the middle of Garrison's desk now.

"A=F, B=K, and so on. And do they mean what's at the first of the label or something other. Is 'Andrew Botham' going to be under 'Andrew' A=F so I look under F? Or is going to be under 'Botham' B=K and I go digging around in the K's??! 'Ow the bloody 'ell am I supposed to find anything?? Especially since depending on just which of them pulled this off they might not even 'ave gotten THAT right??! You know Chief sometimes sees 'is letters backwards."

Garrison did sympathize, he really did, though he could also see the humor of that. Frankly, he doubted Chief would ever start such a project, would have found it far too frustrating to begin with, and Actor, well, the one time Garrison had assigned some work in that direction, he'd gotten a very superior look and a haughty, "I do not FILE, Craig." The other two, though, oh yeah.

In his mind he could picture Goniff and/or Casino puzzling over a file, "now, is this supposed to go under this? Or maybe under that?" He could see either of them getting bored with the process if there were too many names starting with the same letter and starting to get inventive. That was a word that fit any one of his guys, 'inventive'. Of course there were several others that he and many others had seen fit to use, a few the Sergeant Major was obviously making a supreme effort NOT to use in the presence of an officer.

Now, as he tried to calm Gil Rawlins down, he did have to admit that they'd used, well, if not common sense, at least SOME discretion. There was nothing dangerous, like tampering with anyone's gear or sideslipping anyone on the obstacle course. None of the food had been tampered with, no salt in the coffee, nothing like that. Food was just too precious to be messed with, at least any more than the Army had already done when packaging whatever-it-was and labeling it 'Rations'.

Nor had the vital equipment been tampered with - no flat tires on the vehicles, no removing any engines or anything like that. Well, there was the matter of the command jeep turning up lime green, but, as Garrison had tried to comfort the Sergeant Major, "Gil, at least it's not pink." And the guys had been cheerful enough when they'd had to spend the afternoon repainting the vehicle the standard military green; it only struck Garrison and Rawlins later that night that making the guys handle that little chore had gotten the rascals out of another preassigned project that they would have enjoyed much less.

It had gotten so it was hard to tell which was up and which was down. Garrison had shown up, dress uniform, pleasant smile on his face at the manor house of a local toff, invitation in hand, only to be greeted by a bewildered butler informing him, "there must be some mistake, Lieutenant. The family is in Scotland for the next month!" The bewhiskered man had confirmed that, yes, it was indeed the master's stationery, it certainly appeared to be his handwriting, but still . . .

The next unexpected invitation - one From Reverend Standish to take afternoon tea at the vicarage, Garrison just smiled with knowing satisfaction, and tossed it in the waste basket. The next Sunday, a kind but slightly reproachful Reverend Standish offered him his hand, as usual, but with a "I'm so sorry your duties found you unable to join us for tea yesterday. We were quite looking forward to visiting with you, as we've rarely been given the chance since our arrival in the village." Garrison forced a polite smile and apology, and remembered with a groan he refused to let past his lips, that last invitation HAD been from the vicarage!

Yet, once they got the word of a mission, it all turned around. They paid attention to the briefings, made sensible suggestions, made sure they knew what they were supposed to do, had the proper equipment. They went in, just the usual tension-breaking joking around, did the job, no more nonsense than usual, got back out again. They were too worn out for any foolishness then, got through the debriefing and back to the Mansion, and Garrison would think it was back to normal.

Then, it all started over again. The guys would go missing, there'd be a frantic call from Lou down at The Doves and Garrison and Rawlins would head out to break up the bar fight to end all bar fights, only to find a few puzzled locals wondering what the two were talking about, and Lou not even on duty that night. The brook trout in Sergeant Major's bed turned into a quick dinner for the next night - just for Garrison and Rawlins, the Sergeant Major not being one to turn his nose up at an oppportunity just because it was unexpected. On and on it went, til, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Of course, that didn't mean the two in charge relaxed their guard, not right away.

Garrison heard the snorts and snickers from the guys as they made their way down the hall to the firing range for some late afternoon target practice, their morning scores being somewhat worse than usual.

"Actor, I need to see you for a minute," brought the tall Italian into the office, pleasant smile on his face.

"Yes, Craig, was there something you needed?" Garrison gave the con man, his second-in-command a long look.

"Alright, I give up. What the hell was going on?"

The innocent look he got in return really belonged on their resident pickpocket's face, it would have fit much better there.

"Actor. . ." and Garrison's voice had turned into a stern warning, and the man finally smiled, and admitted to the whole story. He was only a few sentences in when Garrison reached for his bottom drawer, the bottle and two glasses.

"So, each month has a theme??!"

"Craig, understand. They were getting bored, and you know as well as I that that is a very bad idea. So I remembered something from, oh, many years ago in a place very far away, a similar situation." He shrugged, "they seemed to like the idea."

Garrison shut his eyes tight and shook his head as if shaking it free from being out in the rain. "So, we've just gone through 'the merry month of May-hem."

"Yes, next is . . ."

"No, from the top, let's start with January. Just tell me," he groaned, picking up his pen to makes notes; he was going to NEED this information. "January is . . ." he prompted.

Actor grinned with true amusement. "January is Jerks We Have Known. February is Full of Practical Jokes. March is Mischief Month. April is All in All I'd Rather Be In . . . May, well, you know about May. June is A June Full of Puns. Next is Jokie July. August is Awful Scary Story month. We have Songful September, and Outrageous Lies October, and then Naughty November. We left December to Christmas Traditions, but some of those can get rather interesting too, you know, especially the English Country Christmas sort of thing; we are going to do some serious research into those."

The look Garrison was giving Actor was not showing the level of appreciation the conman was perhaps expecting.

"Ah, well, I must catch up with the others. Afterwards, I have some correspondence I really must deal with before it is too late. I received a letter from my ex-wife; it seems she still misses me . . ."

Garrison was wondering about this first mention of an ex-wife, when Actor continued, "but I must take caution because her aim is starting to improve."

The Lieutenant's jaw actually dropped, and Actor shrugged, "you must forgive me. I don't believe I have the inclination to do that before, pun, you know." And he nodded cheerfully and left.

Craig Garrison looked down at the notes he'd made, then at his calender.

"A Juneful of Puns." He looked at the whole list and groaned and let his head drop into his hands. "They never covered ANY of this at West Point!"


End file.
